


Wings

by itwasonlyaship



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: ???? - Freeform, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, hybrid bird au, oh boy how do I tag things again aaaa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-23 06:54:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8318179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itwasonlyaship/pseuds/itwasonlyaship
Summary: For the lovely princeofmints on the tumblesSometimes, you don't realize what you have until it's gone. Or in this case, blown up.A fic about Tord realizing he's a mcfucking™ idiot and coping with his emotions.------------------------------------------------------I'm a bit terrible about updating and unfortunately I fell out of this fandom a good bit ago. There might be an update if I ever feel up to completing this, but for now, that's all there is. I reread it and I think I've got some good bones, so fingers crossed for my writing muse to help me at least conquer this and properly finish it. If you want to snatch the idea and write it better, go ahead, please. Give people the content they deserve.





	1. One of These Things is Not Like The Other

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tiiko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiiko/gifts).



> CREDIT TO THIS AU GOES TO princeofmints.tumblr.com
> 
> LOVE HIM. VISIT HIM. SHOWER HIM IN AFFECTION.

The first thing that came to mind was the beeping. It was incessant. But rhythmatic. Just annoying enough to keep him on the edge of consciousness but soft enough to fade into background noise. There was a dull ache in his body, parts of him simply throbbing. Tord shifted with a slight whine, opening his eyes to the harsh light. Everything was blurry, a hand shielding his face as his sight slowly adjusted.

 _“-couldn’t do anything. It’s too tender right now Paul.”_ Even the though the words were hard to make out, Tord could tell it was Pat. He cleared his throat, stumbling over himself a few times. 

“Patryk?” The voices hushed, Patryk’s head popping around the corner. Surprise colored his features before he stepped into the room.

“Sir? How do you feel?” He was speaking softly, like one does with a child. His hand gently rubbed Tord’s thigh and all he felt was pain, pain, flaring plain. Tord hissed, Patryk retracted his hand and cast him an almost pitying gaze. Paul looped his arm around Pat’s waist, pulling him close. 

“I feel like I got hit by a damn truck. What the hell happened?” Both Pat and Paul were silent for several moments before Patryk spoke up.

“Sir you were… Severely hurt when we pulled you from the wreckage..” He cleared his throat, casting his gaze elsewhere as Tord’s expression morphed into dawning realization.

“What happened?”

“Sir I really think-”

“Patryk, I asked you a damn question.” Tord hissed, causing the taller male to flinch and pull his wings closer. 

“You were at risk of losing too much blood… So we.. we had no other choice..” The thick sound of regret and the way Pat wouldn’t meet his gaze made Tord move very suddenly. Paul abandoned his grip on Pat to attempt to keep Tord laying down.

“Tord, you really shouldn’t be moving around-”

“Shut up!” He snapped venomously, the air falling quiet in that instant. He was breathing hard, the painkillers having definitely worn off. He could more accurately feel the sharp pain in his side and shoulder blade on his right side. “Take me to a mirror.”

“Sir-” Tord cut Patryk’s protest off with a simple glare, Paul extending his hand to Tord. Of course, the stubborn male refused, assuming he would be fine. When his feet touched the floor, he almost immediately lost his balance. Paul quickly caught him, sighing softly. He helped slowly walk Tord to a bathroom, his bare feet padding across the linoleum tiles in the Medical wing. The mirror was grimy and small, but it showed enough that when Tord saw his reflection, he was startled. His fingertips gently prodded and traced the heavy amounts of gauze covering his skin. They traveled to his shoulder and gripped the stump hard enough that tears came to his eyes. He had lost his arm and they had taken his wing. He choked on his tears, catching Paul off guard as he curled inward. The male guided him to the floor where Tord curled over his knees, his good hand searching, searching for the soft, satiny feathers that used to adorn his right side. 

“I’m sorry Sir… Even if we had left it, the feathers were tattered and so badly damaged it would have been a hindrance..” Paul’s voice was gruff, the soft words doing little to soothe his ego.

“I… Can’t lead an army like this.” Tord’s voice was rough, thick with tears and anger as he exhaled. 

“You don’t know that-” Patryk chimed in from the doorway, warily watching them.

“I do know! I know better than anyone else!” He snapped, his eye was wide with fear. “Don’t offer me false hopes. You know as well as I do that no one will follow a leader who’s confined to the ground. I’m useless to my troops. Laughable even.” Tord wiped his nose and laughed bitterly as he sat up. “I was one of the worst. I criticized and boasted so much.” _Perhaps this is the price I pay for being so proud._ He chuckled to himself, garnering concerned glances from the duo. 

“Let’s get you back to bed.” Tord didn’t protest that time, his entire body feeling rather numb as it began to sink in just what the future held for him.

_Nothing._


	2. What Exactly Are Friends?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's gotta leave things behind folks. But change can be good?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tord is an angst lord hoo boi

The army disbanded weeks later. Tord was bitter, glancing at the base as he idly kicked small debris on the ground.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Patryk had asked him that many, many times.

“It isn’t about what I want anymore.” He mumbled softly, his good wing folded close against his body. Tord was pacing, taking small steps. His balance hadn’t improved much and he still stumbled; his back was always cold and he felt oddly empty. Tord’s phone rang and he struggled to pull out the device for a few seconds before he answered.

“Hallo?”

“We’re almost ready, meet us by the outlook tower.” Patryk’s voice crackled over the phone, Tord sighing.

“You two idiots aren’t required to stay with me.”

Pat snickered, Paul’s laughter picking up in the background. “Fair. But you have nowhere to go. Besides, someone needs to look after you. You’re still healing.” Patryk’s point made the male falter a moment before a small huff escaped the small norski and he shook his head. He could… Have gone back. But the chances of him being welcomed were very slim considering everything that happened. “Whatever. I’ll be there soon.” He hung up, pocketing the phone and took one last glance around the disheveled base. When he had first made the announcement, the soldiers had protested. None of them knew that their precious Red Leader was scarred. However, after some forceful coaxing on Pat and Paul’s parts, the soldiers let well enough be. The base suffered some damages but…. In the end it was just an empty husk full of unfulfilled dreams. Tord sighed, heading towards the exit, using the wall as a support for him to lean on so he could move faster. Tord struggled with the heavy metal door, but after a few tries he managed to get it open. The sunlight that filtered down through the trees was blinding at first, his eye squinting until he got into the denser parts of the woods. His boots crunched through the wild underbrush, hardly used paths brimming with wild, unruly plants. Tord subconsciously held his wing a little higher, not wanting to catch the delicate feathers on any of the underbrush which made it only that much more difficult to travel.

He was working up a sweat, wiping his brow as he could feel how damp his bandages were getting. Hopefully Patryk planned to change them before they left. Tord didn’t think he could handle several hours in a small vehicle with gross bandages. Eventually, the large wooden structure on the edge of the base came into view. Tord exhaled heavily, honestly relieved to see the damn thing. He leaned against it, body sagging and protesting at this much movement when everything was still tender. Tord heard the familiar whoosh of wings, his gaze drawn upwards. He saw Patryk and Paul’s familiar wings, a pang of jealousy settling right in his chest. Even though it had been a few weeks, it felt like a lifetime. He was so used to being in the air that he found himself itching to fly. But you couldn’t fly with one wing. Tord sighed heavily, shifting as he walked forward to greet the two freshly landed lovebirds. “Did you pack everything in the car?”

“Of course!” Pat chirped. Tord nodded, letting Pat fuss over him and his bandages. They were sacrificing a lot on their end to help him. They were also bound to get a lot of ridicule because of him. It isn’t easy to hide the fact you have one wing when you stick out like a sore thumb. Tord allowed himself to be carried to the car, albeit begrudgingly. He wouldn’t admit that he was extremely grateful as his sore body might not have been able to carry him the rest of the way. 

When he came to, he didn’t recognize any of the scenery. Not at first. It took a passing billboard for the sinking realization to cause Tord to shrink in the back seat, drawing his hood up before complaining for more pain meds. It was… Home. In a way. The decision to come here of all places baffled him entirely. He pulled on his drawstrings to his hood, concealing his face as he squeezed his eyes shut. What would Tom think of him? What would Edd or Matt think of him? He bit his lower lip hard, threatening to draw blood as he tried to focus on breathing. The city was a big place. The chances of him seeing them or finding them was slim. But as reassuring as it sounded, his chest tightened momentarily. 

_Why would they want to have anything to do with someone like me?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment and Kudo if you like!
> 
> also comment if I should tag things aaaaaa,,,


	3. Ghosts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> LOTSA STUFF HAPPENS AND THE BOY HIMSELF IS V. OVERWHELMED.

Moving in was pretty boring considering Tord couldn’t really… Lift boxes. Being unable to fly and being practically smothered by Pat and Paul’s constant worries was making him snappier than usual. Not to mention when they weren’t moving boxes, they were being disgustingly sappy. Tord frowned and locked himself in his room. He didn’t have anything of real value to bring with him aside from just some scraps. Living in an apartment was… Different. He could do without the pitying looks and dirt glares. 

He kept odd hours, Patryk having to slip in or force him out just to change his bandages or to get him to eat. Tord preferred keeping to himself, keeping himself occupied with tinkering. It was repetitive. It was calming. It kept his brain occupied for the most part. Sometimes he would sit in his windowsill and look at the stars with a cup of coffee, wanting to delay the inevitable need for sleep as long as possible. The bags under his eyes grew darker. Patryk cornered him in the kitchen one morning, asking him if he had been sleeping. The mumbled answer was yes, but in truth, he wasn’t. If Tord wasn’t forcing himself to stay awake, he would find himself startled from sleep by nightmares, laying sweaty and tangled in his sheets. It wasn’t pleasant in the least. 

Tord had convinced his own stubborn ass he didn’t need any kind of help. Which was also exactly why he was currently biting down as hard as he could on a piece of cloth. His good hand was shaking, sweat causing him to drop his tools more times than he would have liked. It was rather hard to be relatively considerate of his suitemates if he couldn’t keep his grip. Tord’s head rest on the table, the wood uncomfortably slick from his sweat. His vision wavered as he grit his teeth harder, digging into the cloth. His hand numbly felt around for the screwdriver he dropped, going back to tightening the screws. Tord hit a particularly sensitive patch, knocking over his tool kit with his wing as he curled up. It took a few moments but Pat and Paul came rushing in, flipping on the light. Tord hissed, curling up tighter, _feeling_ their gaze on him. Pat gently placed his hand on Tord’s back as Paul coaxed the screwdriver from Tord’s hand. He whimpered softly, Paul taking over the adjustments. 

“You’re done.” Paul mumbled some time later, the fatigued norski letting out a brittle wheeze as he tentatively flexed the prosthetic. It still stung, but that could simply be his muscles talking. Pat had disappeared some time ago, a cool glass gently tapped down on the table and a wet cloth was applied to his skin. Tord gasped, digging his fingers into his palms as his brows furrowed.

“Why the hell didn’t you ask us to help you?” Pat chided softly, pushing the glass closer. “Take the pain meds and drink up.”

Tord numbly popped the pills and practically inhaled the cool water. His wing trembled, his breaths still heavy as he wavered where he sat. Paul scooped him up and lay him in his bed despite his weak protests. He was asleep before Paul and Pat left his room, his shiny prosthetic glowing in the moonlight. 

Honestly Tord was glad he had the ability to use two hands again. He didn’t require any help getting dressed or showering or cooking. It was very freeing. However, discovering his limitations was another challenge. Occasionally it was far stronger than he intended, breaking dishes on accident and ripping his favorite shirts. Other times his shoulder pains would flare up from overworking himself. Though every time he would glance in the mirror, he felt a little less like a freak, so to Pat and Paul, it was worth the extra money spent on replacements if it meant Tord spent less time in his room.

While Tord felt more comfortable with himself, he still wasn’t confident enough to exactly _leave_. Every time he went even down the hall to go up to the rooftop, he found his fingers wandering to where his wing would be, the dull twinges of pain flaring up if a room was particularly cold. He could already tell winter was going to be hell. More often than not, the smaller male would keep his head down, trying to shield his bad side when he wobbled along. He was small, but making himself smaller to hide his scars was only going to do so much.

It was particularly gusty when he finally worked himself up to leave their building. Part of his motivation was driven by the fact Paul had brought him the wrong parts three separate times. He was hunched over, walking unsteadily and having to catch himself as the wind was dragging at his feathers a bit more than he had anticipated, slowing him to a crawl. “This is hell…” He grumbled irritably, leaning against a building as he caught his breaths. All of his muscles were tense and protesting because they were doing twice as much work as normal. Tord took a step forward, the a particularly strong gust of wind catching under his feathers and blew him back a few feet into a very large, solid mass. He was startled, flaring pain pulling a whimper from his taut lips. 

“Hey! Watch it-” The mass was just as startled, and Tord’s breaths caught in his throat when he looked up. A small quiver of fear ran down his spine, swallowing thickly.

“Thomas.” He didn’t intend to actually acknowledge him, his name coming out as a soft whisper. They remained awkwardly close until Tord took a half step back, clearing his throat.

“You…” Tom’s voice died after a few moments, gaze stuck on Tord. He could feel him staring, he could _feel it, he was ugly he knew it, why didn’t Thomas just say the obvious_ \- “Need uh.. Help?”

“No, thank you.” He replied curtly, throat tight as he tugged the sleeves of his jacket over his hands. If he reached for his own wings now, he’d just bring more attention to the fact he only had the one.

Tom’s gaze seemed to narrow, his stance shifting. “Alright well. Where are you headed?”

Tord was thoroughly confused, his answer slipping past his lips before he could snap at him. “The hardware store..” _Fuck._

Tom nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets before extending a wing behind the male, gently nudging him forward. Tord watched him warily before slowly walking. _What’s his deal?_ Even with his awkward shuffling, Tom stayed by his side, his gaze cast forward. Tord never really relaxed, but every time the wind threatened to push him back, he ended up pressed against Tom’s strong wing. While he wouldn’t admit it, he was grateful for the help even if he was unsure of Tom’s intentions. They stood outside the hardware store, Tord taking a hesitant step forward. The automatic doors opened faster than he anticipated, the noise overwhelming him for a moment. He ducked his head, trying to walk faster than normal. There were a few curious glances before Tom caught up in a few steps, wings folded neatly behind himself. Tord was teetering to one side, the male gently righting him. Tord had been one step away from tripping, giving Tom an incredulous stare. The hawk simply shrugged, glancing around.

“What exactly did you need?” 

“Just.. A few things.”

“You better not be planning on doing something stupid.” He grumbled, causing Tord’s cheeks to heat up, anger swirling in his chest as he clenched his fists. _Ignore him, ignore him, ignore him._ Tom trailed after him in silence, Tord growing slowly more and more agitated as he picked up different metals and observed them. His arm functioned fine, but it could always be improved. He could feel Tom staring again, earning a very snappy “What?” from Tord. The eyeless man shrugged again, gaze drifting elsewhere. 

He exhaled heavily, rubbing his patch before settling on some scrap metals, walking with his purchase awkwardly. Tom made to reach for it and Tord moved too quickly, not wanting assistance. Only to crash loudly into a display of paint cans. It drew curious stares, concerned whispers. Tord blinked, realizing Tom stood over him, panic settling in his limbs. He needed to leave, he never should have gone outside today, _he should just go home and never come out ever again_ -

Tom lifted Tord against his chest and picked up his scrap metal pieces, the smaller male breathing fairly fast. “You always seem to make a mess, don’t you?” There was no venom in his words, just a tired heavy sigh. “Let’s pay for this and get you home.”

“Why are you being so nice?” Tord sputtered suddenly, his gaze unfocused for a moment before he glanced up at him. “Shouldn’t you hate me or something? I never asked for your help and here you are _helping_ me?!” His voice was starting to become more frantic, pitching a little more loudly. Tom groaned, eyes closing for a moment as he came to a standstill.  
“Can’t stop for a moment and shut up can you? Just. Let me do this.” He didn’t offer any more explanation to the dove, carrying him all the way through checkout and out of the store. Tord was in a daze, thinking about all of it far too analytically. 

“Where do you live?” Tom’s words startled Tord out of his daze, glancing up before he wriggled. 

“Put me down first you overgrown turkey.” Tord was set down, Tom giving him a mild huff before walking ahead. Tord stumbled after him, the wind fairly minimal now. “I just live in the Silver Lining complex.”

Tom nodded, the two walking in silence. It didn’t take as long to get back as it took leaving, but Tord had to stop for a few breaks along the way. Tom waited patiently before handing over the bag to Tord at the door of his complex. “Well uh.. See ya around. Edd and Matt and I live over at the Cloud Nine complex down town. Should visit them when you’re ready.” With that, Tom took a few minutes to get up off the ground before the wind helped push him higher into the sky. Tord watched with a small pang of envy before turning into the building.

He locked himself in his room, sitting on the edge of his bed and stared out the window as rain began to plop against the glass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I nearly cried at all of y'all's kind comments oml I appreciate all of you so much!! Hope you enjoy this new chapter and that I did it justice!

**Author's Note:**

> AAAAAAAA COMMENT BELOW IF YOU WANNA
> 
> IT'S BEEN AGES SINCE I WROTE SOMETHING.


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